


crimson tide ( REUPLOAD )

by ever_less



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Beach, Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Heartbreak, Loneliness, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:07:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24582787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ever_less/pseuds/ever_less
Summary: Sunset. What comes to mind is likely the most beautiful sunset you’ve ever witnessed, your brain conjuring images of the sun sinking behind ocean waves. Painting the tide crimson.
Relationships: Bang Chan/Han Jisung | Han, Bang Chan/Lee Felix, Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know
Kudos: 17





	crimson tide ( REUPLOAD )

**Author's Note:**

> THIS IS A REUPLOAD   
> I changed some of the ships, polished it up a bit, and did what I could to make it a more enjoyable read!! 
> 
> comments and kudos are always welcomed!

Sunset. What comes to mind is likely the most beautiful sunset you’ve ever witnessed, your brain conjuring images of the sun sinking behind ocean waves. Painting the tide crimson. 

You might not think of blood on the sand. Felix cut his finger on a piece of sea glass, and for a split second the ocean picked it up red, before it washed away.

You might not think of someone's eyes, twinkling as they’re filled with sun, brown depths transforming into pools of honey. 

You might not think of someone’s skin, burned red and peeling, but he’s smiling and laughing. I beg him to put on sunscreen, and hours later I rub aloe vera gel into his back and he winces. 

You might now think of freckles forming on your skin. I don’t mind. He tells me that the sun is accepting me as one of its kind. He says I’m becoming magic, slowly but surely. 

  
  
  


He’s short. He stands on his toes to kiss me, his lips chapped as they move against mine. 

  
  
  
  


I dance. He doesn’t anymore, but his body still remembers. I coax him into my arms and we sway together, back and forth. When the sky goes dark and the stars are all you can see, he whispers to me his deepest secrets and reminds me that this, right here, is the feeling of love.

The sea, he says. This is who we were, before bones, before dirt, before light. The blue mirror of the ageless gods. Churning proof that we have always been deep and restless souls. 

I find that the best nap is the one you take after being out in the sun for hours. 

  
  
  
  


I wonder, at what point did he get wise enough to know what to do when he finds me crying? We both know that one day I’ll have to leave, and I can’t take him with me. We both know that and yet my soul aches. 

I drop my book in the sand along with my worries. He runs beside me, chasing the sun as it falls, and him on top of me. He tells me he loves me. I say it back, and he laughs and kisses me because he knows. He always has. 

There are some nights we climb on rooftops, and he holds my hand and tells me the patterns of the ancient stars. How to find my way home, in the beat of his chest and the black of the water. 

But the tide fades crimson. I sit with his favorite song spilling from my headphones and I let the foreign lyrics engrave in my brain. 

  
  


He asks me, what is the most painful thing anyone has told me, and he makes me promise to tell him the truth.

I was told no one else would want me, tears threatening to spill. You never really forget. When my mother left because I was somehow too much to handle, I believed it was my fault for years. Some days I still cry about it, and he nods in understanding. 

I ask him the same. He says that when he was seven, his older sister called him the most annoying person in the world, and it stuck. He hold my hand as I cry so hard my body shakes, he cries with me and makes me promise to never leave him. 

I say I never want to. 

Then they accept me. My dream college. 

Two weeks later I’m packing my bags, warding off tears. He stands in the doorway, mouth hung like he wants to beg me not to go. I want him to beg, but that would make it harder. So much harder. 

We spend another night on the beach in silence. 

Promise me you’ll come back, he says in a whisper, breath soft against my skin. Promise me you won’t leave me behind. Promise me you won’t get too tempted by the bright lights of America. 

Promise me you’ll always come back.

I hook my pinky with him, promising with everything I have. 

He walks me to the airport, and right before I enter he holds onto me. I have to pull him off and I’m crying. Crying so hard. He looks me in the eye and I can read it clear in his eyes. 

‘Please don’t go.’

I shake my head, and he runs. 

I whisper goodbye to myself, to the beaches, to the summer.

  
  
  


My roommate was born in Korea, and moved to America when he was five. He shows me the ropes, this is his sophomore year, even though he’s younger than me. 

Jisung is his Korean name, Peter his English. 

He doesn’t question when he hears me crying the first week. When I put the picture of Felix out. When I stay up late on the phone because time zones are a bitch. From across the line Felix shows me the sunrise. The sunset. 

Minho is Jisung’s long distance boyfriend. He knows how bad the separation hurts. We take turns comforting each other the nights we can’t hold back anymore. We cry. Somehow he finds me tim tams, and in return I buy him cheesecake. He shows me Korean dramas, and my accent starts to rub off on him. I start picking up more Korean. Slowly, but surely.

Felix asks if I’m happy, and I tell him that I am. Most days. He’s always on my mind, as if happiness isn’t as happy without him.

He asks if I’m seeing someone else, and I tell him never. He looks sad. Pulled away. I ask if something’s wrong. He tells me he misses me. I notice the way his voice cracks. 

  
  
  


It gets cold here. When the fire alarm goes off at three am because someone decided to make cookies for Christmas, I forget my coat, but Jisung shares his blanket with me. He drapes it over my shoulders. 

Felix promised he’d call on Christmas. He didn’t. I’m left wondering but Jisung wipes the tears from my eyes and hands me my gift. A hat. Knit in thick wool, warm, and it fits perfectly, covering my ears. He says he noticed that I had no winter gear, and he stayed up on weekends knitting it for me. I give him a new pair of dance shoes, and a microphone to record on.

He promises to write me a song, and we spend the rest of the night watching Christmas movies. 

He holds my hand. It doesn’t feel wrong. 

Felix calls. Tells me he’s sorry. Tells me that my mom says hi. His shirt slips, and I see the marks all along his neck and the ones that disappear under his shirt collar. I pretend I don’t see them, and when you hang up, Jisung holds me as I shake with sobs. 

He and Minho broke up a few weeks ago on good terms, and he tells me that it will get better. That it won’t hurt too bad, not for much longer. He says that Felix doesn’t deserve me. 

When Felix calls a week later I pretend my heart isn’t broken and say that we should see other people. He cries, he knows that in the end, it’s for the best. He hangs up first. 

Jisung tells me not to think about it too much. He sings me to sleep. Plants soft kisses on my forehead when he thinks I’ve drifted off. I pretend I don’t hear him crying. 

It’s April now. Spring break. He spends the first few days back home, and when he’s gone I feel more alone than ever. When he comes back we take a drive around town, stopping for ice cream. We sit by the river as the sun sets. Light bounces off the water, painting us in gold. He looks at me and smiles. 

I kiss him. 

Sunset. What comes to mind is likely the most beautiful sunset you’ve ever witnessed. Your brain conjuring images of the sun sinking behind ocean waves. Painting the tide crimson. 

You might not think of him. The sun behind him like a halo, his lips on mine. He doesn’t pull away. 

You might not think of lost love. Felix still calls, and introduces me to Changbin while we’re on Facetime. 

You might not think of Jisung behind me, playing with my hair. The window is open and the birds sing and he tells me about his home. His sunsets. 

I think about you, and some days I still cry. He thinks about Minho, and he cries, and we hold each other.

You might not think about being lost, and then found all over again. 

  
  



End file.
